


Don't Leave Me Hot & Lonely

by justyrae



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, M/M, Phone Sex, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 05:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18277139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justyrae/pseuds/justyrae
Summary: Liam dials a wrong number once and it turns both his and Harry's lives upside down.





	Don't Leave Me Hot & Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote the first 600 words of this (666 to be exact) in 2017. i wrote the other 4k this morning between the hours of 1 and 5 am. if it sucks, blame whatever delirium caused my insomnia and we'll all just forget this exists.
> 
> title from peer pressure by james bay/julia michaels which i've had on repeat for the last four days so that's a thing too.

Harry sighs and stretches his arms up and over his head, waiting to hear the crack of his bones before he drops them back down. He's been doing coursework all day in an attempt to get ahead in his classes before the term gets too far in and he inevitably loses steam. He rubs at his eyes in the hopes that they'll stop aching if he takes a break, and when he opens them again he catches sight of the time and he lets out another sigh; it's nearly time for work.

Luckily, he doesn't have to go far at all so being late isn't a worry he has. All he has to do is grab his phone and make sure it's fully charged before his shift begins. Just one of the many perks of working as a phone sex operator.

He's had the gig for a little over a year now and has built up a fairly decent clientele, but he's not fooling himself; Harry knows full well that this line of work has no real future. The only reason he got into it in the first place was to help pay for grad school, which is working out quite nicely.

Harry carefully closes all of his books and puts away his notes to ensure he doesn't lose any of his hard work before he lies down on his bed and waits for the first call to come in. He always starts his shift lying down, though most of the time he ends up wandering around his flat while on the phone. Usually he'll try and eat in-between calls or before his shift starts, but a few times he's had to stuff his face while on the phone and hope that whoever's on the other side doesn't catch on. There have been a few times where he's wished he hadn't eaten at all because the client requests something so unorthodox that Harry feels a bit sick to his stomach once it's finished. He tries not to shame people for what they're into but there are some things in the world better left unshared, even with someone who works for a phone sex line.

However, for the most part Harry enjoys his job. It's simple, fun, and it pays well. There's not much more that he could hope for at the moment, if he's being honest.

It has put a little bit of a damper on his sex life, though. He still hasn't quite figured out how to tell people what he does in a way that doesn't make him seem seedy. He isn't ashamed of what he does, not by any means, but he's not naive in thinking everyone in the world is open-minded regarding their sexual needs. It's a large part of the reason that only one of his friends actually knows about it; even his mum thinks he works at a restaurant.

All in all, it doesn't bother Harry all that much. He figures there will be plenty of time for meeting people after he's done with grad school anyway and besides, it's not like he's lonely.

When he first started, Harry's biggest worry was that he'd run out of things to say. He'd always thought he was alright at dirty talk, he'd never had any complaints to the contrary, but the fact was that people were going to be _paying_ him to do it and Harry took that to mean that he had to keep himself to a certain standard. He wasn't sure what the repercussions were if he turned out to be absolute shit at phone sex, but he figured the worst punishment would be getting fired, and that was definitely something he wanted to avoid.

He quickly learned that he could easily reuse material from one client to the next; it's not like they were talking to each other afterwards. All he had to do was keep them talking (or keep them from getting off) for as long as possible.

It's really not all that hard. (Pun not intended.)

An added perk of living on his own is that he doesn't have to worry about anyone overhearing his phone calls. He can sit wherever he likes in his flat, or wander around during calls, and it doesn't matter. Nobody's going to walk in on him talking dirty to a complete stranger. His mum _has_ called a few times while he's been on the phone with someone else, but he just lets those go to voicemail and hope nothing's wrong.

His first few calls of the evening aren't really all that remarkable. The only thing he has to really focus on is saying the correct name, which is only really an issue when it's late in his shift. He's only ever slipped up once and once was certainly enough.

Harry reclines on his sofa after an unusually quick call. It was a female voice on the other end of the line which originally led him to believe that it would be one of his longer calls of the night. He doesn't get too many female callers, but when he does he finds that he spends more time on the line with them than anyone else.

He doesn't get too much time to sit and wonder, however, because the next call comes fairly quickly.

"Hey there," he answers in a sultry voice, the same one he used to use when he'd approach people in pubs. It's sort of lost its lustre in real life, which may be another reason why Harry's sex life has gone seriously downhill in the last year. "What's your name?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line and Harry waits. It might be a first-timer, and they're usually a little more reluctant to say anything.

"Uhh, it's Liam."

"Liam," Harry repeats, purring a little as he puts his arm under his head and chuckles. "That's a sexy voice you've got there."

"I… uh, thank you?"

"You're welcome, love. What can I do for you tonight?"

"I… I'm sorry, I'm trying to reach Heather?"

"You can call me Heather if you like," Harry replies. It's not the first time he's been called by a name other than his own by a client, though he can't think of another time where he's been called a girl's name. Most often he gives his clients his real name; it's not like they can find out his identity with just "Harry."

"What?" The voice on the other end sputters a little. "I'm so sorry, I think I have the wrong number."

Before Harry can say another word, the line goes dead. He frowns a little but doesn't take offense to the hangup. Wrong numbers do happen, and he'd certainly hate to open up his mobile bill at the end of the month and see a stupidly large charge for a phone number he hadn't meant to call.

Another minute goes by before his phone rings again and he answers it the same way as he had the last time.

"Hey there, what's your name?"

"Shit, I could've sworn I dialed the right one this time."

Harry snorts. "Well, hello Liam."

"Hi," Liam replies, clearly frustrated and possibly a little disappointed.

While he's amused by the whole situation Liam seems to have found himself in, Harry's a little frustrated himself. These wrong number calls are taking time away from other paying customers who actually know what they're getting into.

"What number are you trying to reach?" Harry asks.

Liam rattles off a set of numbers and Harry clicks his tongue.

"What?"

"That's my number, love. Sorry."

"Shit," Liam says, the disappointment clear in his voice this time. "I could've sworn I wrote it down right. But…" There's a bit of shuffling on Liam's end and he sighs. "I dunno, maybe this was supposed to be a one, not a seven."

"Where did you meet this Heather, anyway?"

Liam sighs again. "At a club. My mates badgered me into talking to her. I was surprised she gave me her number at all."

"Sorry, Liam. Looks like she gave you mine, instead."

"And you're sure you don't know her?"

"Absolutely positive," Harry replies, laughing softly.

"Just wanted to make sure," Liam says. "Y'know, in case she had a mate answer her phone or something. As a joke."

"I think the joke's already been played, Liam."

"What? What're you talking about?"

"This isn't what you'd call a, umm, _normal_ phone number."

"What d'you… it's not international, I don't know what--"

"It's a phone sex line, Liam," Harry gently interrupts.

There's another long pause and for a moment, Harry thinks Liam might've hung up again.

"It's a what?"

"Phone sex line. Y'know, like--"

"Yeah, no I know what a phone sex line is!" Liam curses under his breath. "Why would she do that?"

"I dunno, mate. Maybe she felt like she had to give you something."

"She didn't, though." Liam sounds sad now and Harry can't help but frown. "I only went up to her because my mates wouldn't leave me alone about it. She could've just turned me down."

"We've all been there, Liam. It's alright."

"It's embarrassing, is what it is," Liam replies miserably.

"I feel like this is a good time to say you should probably hang up."

"What? Why?"

"Because this line costs a pound per minute," Harry explains. Liam curses again.

"Why didn't you tell me that earlier??"

"I'm sorry, I don't usually have to," Harry admits. "It honestly didn't cross my mind until just now."

"I've already been on the phone five minutes," Liam says, groaning. "Gone and wasted five pounds, just like that."

Harry clears his throat awkwardly.

"Not that it's a waste," Liam hurriedly says. "I'm sure you're… umm, very good at what you do. But, you know."

"It's alright, Liam." Harry chuckles softly. "I'm not offended."

"Oh, good." Liam laughs. "I'd hate to offend you. You seem very nice. I just… I can't really afford to be spending five or more pounds on a phone call, y'know."

"Then you should probably hang up," Harry replies. It's hard not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation; wrong number or not, Harry's still trying to make a living.

"Shit, right. I should. Umm… goodbye, then?"

"Bye, Liam. I hope someday you'll call back for real."

Liam laughs bashfully. "Yeah, uhh, maybe. Bye."

Harry laughs after the call ends. He has a strong feeling that Liam's never going to call him again. Within a few seconds his phone is ringing again and all thoughts of Liam are pushed out of his mind as he says his opening line to the next client.

"Hey there, what's your name?"

*

Over the course of the next week, Harry has another three shifts. His schedule tends to vary depending on his classes and the amount of work he needs to do, but since it's still fairly early in the semester he can use his free time to his advantage and make a bit more money.

A week to the day since he first talked to Liam, Harry's in the middle of a shift when Liam calls again.

"Hey there, what's your name?"

Liam laughs, pulling Harry out of his usual work demeanor. He recognizes the sound of Liam's laugh but he can't place it until Liam speaks.

"Is that what you say every time?"

"Maybe," Harry replies. "Nice to hear from you again, Liam."

"You remember?"

"Of course. What I don't understand is why you're calling again when I seem to also remember you saying you didn't have five pounds to spare on a phone call."

"Yeah, that." Liam laughs a little. "I got my phone bill the other day. You weren't kidding about the charges."

"Nope," Harry laughs again. "So what gives?"

"I dunno," Liam answers. "I liked talking to you last time. You were nice."

"That's very sweet of you, Liam. But I don't think you should be calling just to chat, not for a pound a minute."

"I mean, you're probably right, but. I wanted to."

"Alright, if you're sure. What d'you want to chat about?"

"I dunno. How was your day?"

Harry snorts.

"What?"

"Nothing," Harry replies, trying not to laugh again. "It's just… this isn't how these calls usually go."

"Is it weird? Like, getting people off over the phone."

"Not really. Not for me, anyway."

"I wouldn't even know what to say," Liam says. "Like where do you start?"

"Is this a come on, Liam?" Harry teases. "Want me to tell you how listening to your voice gets me hard?"

"Jesus!" Liam hisses, and this time Harry can't control his laughter. He's usually much better about keeping a straight face during his shifts, but something about Liam just makes him want to laugh and smile all the way through.

"You asked," he replies, his grin coming through the sound of his voice for sure.

"I didn't-- I don't even know you, how could talking get you--"

"Hard?" Harry prompts and Liam curses under his breath. "Aww, Liam. You're too easy."

"Shut up," Liam grumbles. "I don't even know your _name_."

"Would you like to?"

"I mean… yeah. You know mine, it's only fair, right?"

"Yeah." Harry smiles, brushing his hair out of his face as he settles back against the pillows on his bed. "It's Harry."

"Harry," Liam repeats. "Harry. That's fitting."

"Thank you?"

"No, I meant…" Liam laughs awkwardly. "I dunno what I meant. You just sound like a Harry, is all."

"Well, then you sound like a Liam. Whatever that means."

They continue talking until Harry finally convinces Liam that he should hang up before his next phone bill is astronomical. It still takes another minute or two before Liam hangs up, and it's only after the call ends that Harry realizes his cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

It happens again the next week. And again the week after. No matter how many times Harry tells him that this isn't what the phone number is supposed to be for, and that Liam shouldn't be wasting his money just to talk to him, Liam keeps calling back.

The thing is, Harry likes it just as much as Liam does. He knows deep down that he probably shouldn't like it so much. Liam's a total stranger, their conversations notwithstanding. They've never seen each other face to face and for all Harry knows Liam lives on the other side of the bloody country.

Harry's never come out and said it, but he's not allowed to give out personal information. The strange thing is, Liam never asks him about anything personal. He tells Harry a lot of things about himself, even about his family and friends. He tells Harry so much that it almost feels like they're just two friends chatting in an entirely normal situation.

But Harry has to remember: they're not. He doesn't really know Liam at all. He just knows that he likes him, likes _talking_ to him.

Which, honestly, might be worse.

*

Harry doesn't normally work on Friday nights. Friday and Saturday nights are the busiest nights in his line of work so he's obligated to work at least one, but this week is different. Normally he reserves Friday nights to blow off steam from the stress of the school week, usually either spending it out with friends or curling up on the couch at home binge-watching Netflix. The past week's been surprisingly light in terms of coursework, so Harry thinks maybe it couldn't hurt to stay in and earn a bit of extra money.

His clients seem a bit more desperate than usual, but it's nothing particularly out of the ordinary. It's the sort of behavior he expects from the weekend callers. Most clients end up calling the line when they've had a bit to drink and are feeling lonely, having struck out at a pub or something like it. There's something about those callers that makes Harry feel better than usual; like he's really helped someone have a better night.

It's probably a bit weird, patting himself on the back for helping a stranger get off, but Harry doesn't dwell on it for very long. He's gotten fairly good at compartmentalizing his job from the rest of his life.

One of the ways he manages to keep things separate is one very clear rule: no getting off _with_ your clients. Obviously, the clients have no knowledge of it. Harry's very convincing over the phone, leading whoever's on the other end of the line to believe that he's coming when really he's usually staring up at the ceiling or picking at a loose thread on his shirt.

Harry's never broken that rule and he doesn't plan to.

It's getting close to midnight, almost the end of his shift. Harry tells himself that he'll take one more call, _maybe_ two depending on how the first one goes. He doesn't expect a familiar voice on the other end of the line, mostly because it's not his usual night to work.

He certainly doesn't expect Liam to call in. And he _definitely_ doesn't expect Liam to be drunk.

"Harry," Liam says, happiness bleeding through the slurred syllables of his name after Harry says his opening line. "It's you."

"Liam," Harry says fondly. "How'd you know I'd be working?"

"I didn't," Liam admits, pausing for a moment to hiccup. "Just hoped so."

"Are you alright, Liam?"

"Just… y'know. Had a few." Liam mumbles something that Harry doesn't catch. He sits up on his couch, holding the phone closer to his ear in a vain attempt to listen more carefully.

"Is this a booty call?" Harry asks incredulously.

"N-No, no." Liam groans a little. "Maybe. I dunno."

"I didn't take you for this kind of boy, Liam," Harry teases lightly. He's fully expecting Liam to hang up any minute, or maybe he'll pass out and Harry will have to hang up for him.

"Wanna be." Liam clears his throat. "I-I just. Think about it. Y'know."

"Think about what?"

"You." Liam groans again, but this time it's not out of embarrassment. Harry's skin prickles with heat.

"Liam," he says. "What're you saying?"

"I think about you," Liam goes on, his breathing having gone heavy in the last few seconds. "I think about this, you talking to me, me touch--" Liam breaks off and moans softly.

"Liam," Harry says, gritting his teeth as he feels a twitch between his legs. This hasn't happened since his first month on the job. It took a while for Harry to train himself not to get hard every time a client showed any sign of pleasure.

He digs his nails into his thigh, trying to distract himself from the needy feeling building deep inside. Liam moans again and Harry shuts his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down. His usual methods aren't doing the trick; he's getting hard.

"M'sorry," Liam says. "Can't h-help it."

"D'you need this?" Harry asks, sinking lower on the couch as he brushes his hand over the zipper of his jeans. The smallest bit of pressure on his dick is enough to send a ripple of pleasure through his body and Harry bites back a moan.

"Yeah," Liam groans. "Wanna hear you. Wanna know what you'd say."

"Need to hear my voice? Tell you how good you sound right now?"

Harry keeps his eyes firmly closed as he pulls his fly open, shoving his hand into his pants and gasping when he gets his hand around himself. Liam moans in his ear, his breaths coming hard and fast through the phone.

"Yeah, Harry. Tell me, please."

"Fuck," Harry grunts. "God, you… you've got me so hard, Liam."

"Harry," Liam whines.

"I'm serious," he groans. "Just listening to you got my dick so fucking hard. I have to touch myself."

"Yeah, do it."

"Feels so good. Are you touching yourself, Li?"

"Yeah," Liam moans. "M'close."

"Already? Naughty boy. Did you start without me?"

"Had to. Couldn't help it."

"It's okay, Liam. You're so good." Harry grunts as he twists his wrist, picking up his speed to try and get himself close like Liam. "D'you wanna come for me?"

"No," Liam whimpers, "not yet. Wanna hear you. Love your voice, Harry."

"God, Liam. Is that why you called? Were you touching yourself before but needed a little something more? Needed me to tell you how good you are, how fucking good you sound right now?"

"Yeah," Liam pants. "Yeah, Harry, fuck…"

"You're so good, Liam. I bet you look so fucking good right now. Wish I could see you. Wish I could be there getting you off, making you come all over yourself."

"Harry," Liam whines.

"I'm close, Liam. Fuck, I can't--" Harry shudders. "Can I come? Liam, tell me I can, please. I wanna come."

"Yeah, Harry, yeah." Liam moans loudly and within seconds Harry's spilling into his pants and all over his own hand.

"Fuck," Harry breathes out. "God, Liam."

Liam moans softly in response, and Harry can't help but chuckle fondly.

"You sound fucking sexy when you come, d'you know that?"

"Harry," Liam says, his voice turned bashful.

"It's true," Harry replies.

"I'm all messy," Liam admits. "Don't wanna get up."

"Aww," Harry coos. "Sorry I can't help you with that."

"Would you?" Liam asks, sounding sober for the first time. "If you were here?"

Harry waits a moment. "Yeah," he says.

"I'd like that," Liam replies softly.

"Me too."

He's trying not to think about the fact that he's still got his hand shoved down his pants around his softening dick. He doesn't want Liam to know how badly he's just fucked this up. But that doesn't mean that what he's saying isn't absolutely true. He really would like to know Liam outside of this, but it's impossible.

Harry should never have let it get like this. It's all his fault.

"You should get cleaned up," Harry says, switching gears in an attempt not to embarrass himself any further. "And then get to bed. S'late."

"Yeah," Liam replies, sounding sleepy as he yawns. "Thanks for… everything, Harry. I'm glad you were around tonight."

"Good night, Liam."

Harry doesn't let himself say anything else. It's only going to get him further into trouble.

*

After that Friday night, Harry doesn't work another shift. He's supposed to, but he doesn't. He doesn't trust himself anymore, not after what happened with Liam. There was a line that he set for himself and he crossed it, plain and simple. It never should've happened.

Still, there's a tiny voice in his head that says _Liam knew what he was doing same as you. You didn't do anything wrong._ Harry doesn't believe that voice, though. He pushes it down and throws himself into school, telling his boss that he can't work for a while because he's got too much coursework.

A whole week passes without Harry working a single shift, but the feeling remains. He can't shake the feeling that he massively fucked up and he has no idea how to fix it.

The only logical solution is to quit his job and never speak to Liam again. It's harsh, it's probably too much of an extreme, but it's all Harry has. He just has to hope that it'll be enough to eventually quell his guilt.

He spends his afternoons after classes in a coffee shop just off campus, his coursework taking up the whole of his corner table while he sips on expensive lattes he probably shouldn't be ordering if he's going to be out of work soon. He's been avoiding his boss' calls for a few days now.

Taking a break from the paper he's working on, Harry takes to people-watching. There's plenty of people coming through the small coffee shop to pique his interest, but a bloke catches his eye from the moment he steps through the door. Harry watches him wait in line, trying not to let him catch on to the fact that he's being watched.

He gets a call and steps out of the line, which Harry finds endearing. He's watched a number of other people try to order while talking on the phone, which is just plain rude.

"Hi, Mum," the bloke says as he steps closer towards the corner where Harry is, "no, I'm just getting coffee, what's going on?"

Harry freezes. He _knows_ that voice.

In the midst of his surprise, Harry loses his grip on his cup. It falls and catches on the edge of the table, tipping his half-full and still very warm latte directly into his lap.

"Shit!" Harry scrambles to his feet, drawing attention from absolutely everyone in the coffee shop. But the only person to come to his aid is the one person he wishes wouldn't.

Liam.

"Mum, I gotta go," Liam says as he quickly grabs some napkins and rushes over to Harry. "I'll call you back in a minute." Liam puts his phone in his pocket and offers the napkins to him. "Are you alright, mate?"

"Yeah, I'm…" Harry clears his throat. "I'm alright, thanks. Just…"

He chances a glance at Liam's face and immediately knows the jig is up. Liam's recognized his voice as well, and then they're locked in a staring contest.

"You…" Liam blinks. "Harry?"

"Liam," Harry says, awkwardly patting himself dry with napkins.

"I didn't… I tried calling."

"I, umm…" Harry gives up trying to clean himself off and pushes his hair out of his face. "I gave that up. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Yeah, it's…" Harry shakes his head. "I dunno. Complicated?"

"Right." Liam clears his throat. "Can I buy you another coffee?"

"No, you don't have to--"

"I'd like to," Liam says earnestly. "If that's alright."

"Yeah… okay." Harry sits back down as Liam goes to the back of the line. In the few minutes it takes for Liam to get to the front and order, Harry manages to clean up the rest of the spill on the floor and put his coursework back into his bag. Just in case he needs to make a run for it.

"They remembered," Liam says when he hands Harry his new drink. "Your order, I mean."

"Oh." Harry blinks. "Right. Thanks."

Liam shrugs a little, awkwardly standing by the table until Harry gestures for him to sit down. They both sit in silence for a minute or so before they both speak at once.

"I thought--"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"

"--you hated me."

Harry blinks. "What?"

Liam rubs the back of his neck and avoids making eye contact. "I just… y'know. That last call was, y'know. A lot."

"Yeah." Harry swallows hard. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. It's not your fault." Liam scoots his chair a little closer to the table. "You were just…" he drops his voice a bit lower, "...doing your job."

"I wasn't, though," Harry admits. "I mean, it wasn't _just_ my job."

Liam's cheeks go red and Harry can feel his own turning the same shade. They both remain silent for a little while until the tension is too much for Harry to bear any longer.

"Can we go somewhere else to talk about this?" he asks, and Liam nods in response.

A few minutes later they're walking side by side down the street, neither knowing if the other has a destination in mind. It's still awkward, but at least now they're not surrounded by other strangers who might be eavesdropping.

"I, umm… I feel guilty," Harry admits finally, "about what happened."

"Me too," Liam replies. "I feel like I took advantage?"

"You didn't," Harry says. "If anything, _I_ did."

"But you didn't." Liam stops walking and Harry turns to face him. "I don't feel like you did."

"But I do," he says. "You told me so much about yourself, but what do you know about me?"

"Well," Liam starts, but Harry doesn't give him a chance to answer.

"Exactly. You told me all that without me telling you a thing. That's fucked up."

"Yeah, but--"

"But what?"

"It was your job, I didn't--"

"That's just it, Liam: my job."

"But you…" Liam pauses for a moment and Harry lets him take it. "I'm confused. Before you said it wasn't just your job and now you're using it as an excuse?"

"Yes. No. Wait." Harry groans and rubs his temples. "Now I'm confused."

"Can we start over?" Liam asks. "Like, properly?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like," Liam takes a step towards Harry, "we take these coffees and go sit somewhere we won't be overheard by a dozen other people? Get to know each other for real?"

Harry looks down at the coffee in his hand and then back up at Liam. He wants this, he _knows_ he wants this.

"Is that what you want?" he asks.

Liam nods eagerly and Harry bites back a laugh. Never in a million years did he think he would find himself in this situation. Of all the phone numbers in the world, Liam called his. Of all the coffee shops in the whole city, Liam just _happened_ to walk into his. It can't be a coincidence.

"S'pose I've got a few things I could tell you," he says, nodding his head in the direction they were walking earlier. "There's a park nearby with benches, if you like."

"Sounds good to me," Liam replies. As they continue walking down the sidewalk, he switches his coffee to his left hand and his right brushes against Harry's. "I've missed talking to you, y'know."

Harry glances down at their hands as they walk and hooks a finger around Liam's.

"I've missed you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://astorytotellyourfriends.tumblr.com)


End file.
